


Baked with Love

by matchstick_dolly



Series: Reefer Gladness [2]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: 420, Acceptance, Accidental Drug Use, Chill, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Humor, Marijuana, POV Chloe, Sweet, devil's lettuce, mentions of tiny houses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-02-23 07:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23774311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchstick_dolly/pseuds/matchstick_dolly
Summary: Chloe should have known better than to eat brownies baked by the Devil. But maybe, in the end, it's okay to eat forbidden things.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Series: Reefer Gladness [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1757422
Comments: 39
Kudos: 222
Collections: Filii Hircus: Chillin' on the Dock of the Bay





	Baked with Love

**Author's Note:**

> This is a day late...because I got high.

Chloe tapped her pen and glanced at her computer's clock for the hundredth time. It was a bad habit she'd developed over the last two years of dating Lucifer, especially on Friday nights like this one, when she knew they'd have the whole weekend together. Alone. Obsessive clock-watching was the kind of thing she'd seen teenagers with normal school experiences do in TV and movies before the final bell rang, but _she'd_ never done it. 

She _liked_ working. Still did, too. But...Lucifer was right. Overtime was overrated, and paperwork was _bloody boring_. If paperwork were a point on a line, Lucifer was at the opposite end of that spectrum, so his hatred for it all made sense, really.

The clock's numbers blinked over to 5:00 p.m., and Chloe jumped up so abruptly that she startled another detective. She smiled at him awkwardly as she snatched her jacket from the back of her chair. 

"Gotta head out," she said unnecessarily.

"Oookay, Decker. Have a good one."

"Yeah. You, too."

She definitely would. There was a reason she watched the clock these days.

The drive to Lux was agonizing, but having the intersections held up by rush hour traffic did give her time to message suggestive emojis to Lucifer. Her left leg hopped up and down as she stared at their text history, waiting for a reply that this time didn't come. He must be busy. Sighing, she tossed her phone to the passenger's seat. Her emoji game was weak compared to his, anyway, but she was getting better at deciphering his elaborate, explicit messages that sometimes expanded into short erotica. Things were a lot clearer since they'd added the beaver emoji. 

She parked in Lucifer's garage a half hour later and jogged to the elevator until she realized she was doing it and slowed down with a sharp tug to her shirt hem. She was thirty-eight, for crying out loud. 

In the penthouse, she called out to Lucifer, then noticed the shower was running. Grinning, she pulled her shirt over her head while kicking off her shoes. She was down to her bra and panties and halfway across the room when she noticed a dark red ceramic baking dish on the bar counter. Reaching out, she dragged it closer and peeked through its glass top. Inside the dish were picture-perfect brownies—rich, cocoa brown, their baked top gently cracked where they had been cut into squares. Holy hell.

Lucifer was an excellent cook, but luckily for chocolate-cake-obsessed Trixie and not-so-luckily for Chloe's waistline, his real talent lay in baked goods. Cakes, yes, but also cookies and breads of all kinds. The man knew his way around buns, cinnamon or otherwise. He used heirloom wheat flours, artisan sugars and salts, and had very negative opinions about fondant. He only used the finest cocoa. 

"Yeah, and you need to lose five pounds," she muttered to herself. With some effort, she resisted temptation and continued on her way. 

But she paused a moment later, stomach growling, one bare foot hovering over the bottommost stair to his bedroom as she glanced back. She shouldn't. She _really_ shouldn't. She'd not eaten _anything_ today. Coffee didn't count. Brownies _definitely_ didn't.

 _Oh, what's stopping you?_ a part of her asked, the part that, over time, had come to sound an awful lot like the Devil himself. The Devil who did not care at all about the extra five pounds. 

"Fuck it," she mumbled. 

Chloe returned to the counter, plucked the glass top off the dish, and grabbed a brownie. She stared at the bite-sized morsel, wondering why he'd cut them so small this time. Probably for the best, she thought, popping it in her mouth. She'd stop after one.

When would she learn? Nobody "stopped after one" with the Devil. There was always one more, just five minutes, or an encore. 

On the second brownie, she moaned and closed her eyes. He'd really outdone himself this time. There was just this hint of something else, she didn't know what, but above that was more cocoa, a dash of salt, the fat of real butter. It all melted in her mouth. 

At this size, three brownies were really just one normal-sized brownie, she decided. Her psyche determined this was unassailable logic and let her replace the top on the dish. 

Chloe realized while she munched that the shower had turned off, and soon Lucifer strutted into his bedroom with nothing but a towel. He stopped short when he saw her, his face lighting up. 

"New dress code at work, darling?" His eyes roved up and down her body. "I definitely approve."

Huffing a laugh, she looked at her pale blue undies and white bra. "I was going to join you," she said, dusting off her hands. "But then I got distracted."

He leaned against the open doorway to his room, mouth twitching. "My, my, have you been eating my brownies, Detective?" 

"Uh...yeah? That was okay, right? Oh, no. Were they for someone else?" 

"Whatever would give you that idea?" he scoffed. "I don't bake for other people. But I had thought I would _offer_ these to you." He jogged down to her, his movement deliciously relaxed and limber and promising all sorts of things. After a quick kiss, he looked down at the brownie dish with a snort. " _Well_. Someone was hungry." 

"Yeah..." She cringed at the large, empty corner of the dish. "I skipped lunch, too, so...not my healthiest moment." 

"Oh, you know I'm not judging, darling." He leaned his hip against the counter. Water yet slid down his skin, and she watched it with interest. "How'd you like them?"

"Hmm?" She refocused on his face. "Oh." She rolled her eyes. "You know you're an amazing cook."

"Yes, but on a scale of, say, one to five, how _highly_ might you rate them?"

Her face scrunched. "I don't know. They were really good. Five?"

"Ooh, the highest rating possible. Thank you." Lucifer's eyes crinkled at their corners, and she smiled with him, despite her confusion. "You should drink some water. And by some, I mean a lot of it." 

"Can you make me one of those Commonwealth drinks again instead?" She walked two fingers along the middle of his chest. At his collarbone, she slid her hand up and dug into the wet, curly hair at the nape of his neck. "I thought we could have a drink or two, maybe order in, spend a little time in the hot tub…" 

"I like your thinking," he chuckled, "but no alcohol for you." 

Chloe frowned and let her hand slide away in disappointment. "You never care if I'm sober. What's going on?" 

"What's going on, my dear, is those brownies you've been tucking into were not normal brownies." 

She felt herself pale. "What?"

"Yes, so you see, you're _not_ sober. Or won't be for long." He barked a laugh. "Gosh, you should see your face."

"They're pot brownies?"

"They are indeed hash browns."

"This is not funny." Chloe held up a finger in warning. "This is _so_ not funny."

"It's bloody hilarious is what it is."

"No. No, it is not." She shoved past him and started heading for his bedroom. 

Lucifer grabbed hold of her hand and yanked her back. "Where are you running off to?"

"I'm going to go throw up everything I've ever eaten."

Still laughing, he drew her close. "Darling, you need to learn to ride the wave." He tucked her back to his front and swayed, spreading damp heat across her skin. "You can ride me, too, if it'd help."

"Real generous of you." She groaned and bopped the back of her head against his chest several times. "Why would you leave pot brownies out like that?" 

"Why would you assume I _wouldn't_ leave pot brownies out like that?" 

Chloe sighed and pulled away from him. She went and sank down on his sofa. "There's no going back, is there?" she sulked.

"'Fraid not." He didn't sound the least bit sad about it. "Truly, though, I don't see what the big deal is. You were perfectly happy to get high with me last year. As I recall, you quite enjoyed stroking my feathers for forty-five minutes straight."

"Yeah, but I took a week off for all that," she explained. "On Monday, I could go in, and there could be a random drug test, and I could _fail_ it because I ate brownies _today_. I could _lose my job_."

"I thought I was operating legally now..." He frowned, pondering. "Am I not? Isn't weed legal here?"

"Not for detectives working cases, it's not!"

Snickering at her outburst, he dropped beside her and curled an arm about her shoulders. "Let's agree the odds of there being a random drug testing on Monday are slim."

"It could happen," she protested.

"Fine. Let's say it does. Do you trust Old Scratch to get you out of trouble for what was an innocent mistake and will not at all affect your judgment in the field?" Chloe scowled at the floor long enough that he gently shook her. "Well?" he prompted.

" _Yes_ ," she grumbled.

"Splendid, because I would, you know. So, lighten up. Best not to begin your journey on a sour note." Giving her shoulder a squeeze, he let go of her and rose from the sofa. "Now, make yourself comfy, find something chill on the telly, and I'll get us some nibbles." He paused halfway down the stairwell into his kitchen. "Would you like mood lighting?"

"I think I'm good," she snorted, drawing an afghan toward her mostly naked form.

By the time Lucifer returned with two ostentatious, silver trays loaded with snacks and water, she was ten minutes into a show about tiny houses. He scoffed at the screen as he settled the trays on the coffee table and went to retrieve his baking dish of brownies from the counter. 

"Honestly, why do you watch this rubbish? I've already told you, I will never road trip with you in a tiny house."

Chloe pouted. "It could be fun."

"Yes, just think of all we _couldn't_ get up to in a loft bed." He collapsed beside her on the sofa once again, towel riding up his thighs. He shoved a brownie in his mouth. "And compost toilets," he ranted around the food. "I have not lived _billions_ of years to see humankind return to chamber pots."

"Shh," she laughed, shoving his thigh with a foot, which he grabbed and held.

Lucifer ate four more brownies as they watched a couple talk about how happy they were with their three hundred square feet and reclaimed whiskey barrel shower.

"See, we could be showering in a whiskey barrel," Chloe teased. "You probably went through one this week."

"Ha. Ha." He rolled his head sideways to look at her. The whites of his hooded eyes were red. "I would like to bathe you in whiskey and drink it off you."

"You're high," she snorted.

He puffed out a breath. "I am. Bloody celestial metabolism." His mouth lifted in a lopsided smile. "And because you're here."

"I'm not high," she said thoughtfully. "Maybe it's not going to happen to me."

Lucifer sat up and turned so abruptly that his towel slipped off his waist. "Have you never had an edible before?"

"No?"

"Oh."

Chloe sat up as well, suddenly concerned. " _Oh_ , what?"

"Nothing. Only it's a very different high. Takes a bit longer to settle. More"—he slid a hand under her blanket and weaseled between her thighs—"a body high."

She looked at him, amused, when he didn't do anything else to her under the blanket. He seemed content to use her thighs as a hand warmer and, at least for the moment, did not have an erection. 

"I don't think I'm going to get high," Chloe said, falling back to the pillow she'd been clutching and returning her attention to tiny houses. 

Maybe if she said it with enough conviction, it would be true.

* * *

***

* * *

The first sign that something had changed was when a man was talking about wood. 

"You want a good hardwood for railing like this," the man on the television said, sliding his hand along the back deck porch of his tiny house. He was a beautiful, rugged man from Oregon who somehow still looked approachable.

"I'd like to see his hardwood for railing," Lucifer snickered.

"Meee too," Chloe hummed, then gasped, and slapped her hands over her mouth.

Lucifer snorted and then couldn't stop laughing. "You _like_ this man," he said, crawling up her body.

"He's nice to look at." Chloe felt like her face was on fire until she, too, caught Lucifer's giggles. 

When their laughter subsided a few minutes later, Lucifer kissed her gently. "What would you do with him?" he asked, his words slow and slurred. "Or have him do to you?" He grinned dazedly. "Or would you want to see him with me? Ooh, we could finally have an Eiffel Tower." 

"Maybe," Chloe said, and then began giggling again.

He babbled in French as he rained kisses down her throat and breasts. And everything was good and easy and slow. The air in the room was gentle on her skin, even as she welcomed the heat of Lucifer's flesh as they played and twisted and turned until she was nude and stretched out atop him. She didn't really remember how it had all happened; she just knew that it had and was all right to have done so.

"Why can't I feel like this all the time?" Chloe sighed, and suddenly felt morose. " _Everyone_ should feel like this all the time. The world would be a better place." 

"Quite likely." Lucifer played with her hair, curling strands around his fingers until they conformed to the new shape. She sighed again. "That's enough stoned philosophizing," he declared, and rolled toward the coffee table, reaching for snacks.

Crying out and flailing, Chloe slid off him and fell onto the floor. With a grin, the Devil followed her down.

They loved lazily through sweat and laughter, and beneath alabaster wings that appeared not too soon, but at just the right time. The high never seemed to end. It rolled and rolled, climbed and climbed, until the tiniest things made Chloe's emotions spill from her mouth, her eyes, her pores. Her heart raced, her head swam, and every touch made her tremble and hiss with pleasure. 

She complimented Lucifer with ease, saying all the things she normally didn't know how to say—or feared saying because of his ego—when she was more sober. He watched her eagerly, a large, perplexed smile on his face.

"And you're sooo pretty," she told him, thumbs tracing the shape of his face as he lay above her, his weight pressed into his elbows, their bodies still connected.

He kissed the pad of her right thumb, but said nothing. She knew why, of course.

It pained her more than it usually did, drawing tears to her eyes. "Show me," she pled on a whisper. 

One day, she would make up for all those old scars, the ones she'd carved with a knife she hadn't known she'd been wielding.

Lucifer didn't deny her. He turned into a monster before her vision, into that dark presence who roamed Hell's eerie halls. The dull points of claws poked through her hair and rested against her scalp, and he was red and scarred and unholy and hers. Her fingers followed the hollows of his flesh as she looked into eyes burning with flames. She dragged him to her and kissed him softly. He tasted like chocolate.

**Author's Note:**

> [Fic Recs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchstick_dolly/bookmarks) • [My Fics, Categorized](https://matchstickdolly.tumblr.com/lucifer-fanfics-by-matchstickdolly) • [My Fanvids on YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCpFt_dvJXpicQkuPOCDEvhg/videos) • [Tumblr](https://matchstickdolly.tumblr.com/)


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